


the night is my companion

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Series: Meet You on the Sly [3]
Category: The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 17:10:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1865790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened before Penny bailed the boys out of jail. (PWP. But with leather pants and a cop uniform, which is like plot, right?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the night is my companion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afullmargin (anemptymargin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/gifts).



> This probably wasn't what Amber was thinking of when she requested 'cosplay malfunction', but then it wasn't what I'd originally intended to write for her for the prompt either, so I guess it all equals out in the end.
> 
> The Big Bang Theory characters do not belong to me, which is pretty fucking obvious when you think about the content of the show versus the content of my stories, but just in case Bill Prady or someone is reading this, I am not making any money off this and also you guys should really consider some queer representation. Just saying.
> 
> No, I don't know why I keep making them hookers, either.
> 
> * * *

Raj is quick to drop to his knees as soon as they’re off the main street, nosing at the front of the cop’s pants. Running his cheek over one blue-clad thigh, he establishes immediately that there’s no underwear beneath the navy fabric. Even without the absence of a line caused by either boxer shorts or briefs, he’s eye to bulge with the evidence of his captor’s arousal.

A hand lands on his shoulder.

“Do it, go on,” the cop says, voice unsteady. “I'm sure you know how this works by now.”

Raj takes his time, mouthing at the cop’s erection through the material of his pants, before locating and pulling the zip with his teeth. It’s tricky, but with his hands cuffed behind him he has little choice.

The very first lick tells him something he’d already suspected.

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Shut up.” The hand on his shoulder moves to the back of his neck. It puts Raj a little off balance. He’s already half-hard; the degree of roughness heightens the sensation, making his already tight leather pants almost unbearable.

He closes his eyes and opens his mouth.

The subtle taste of soap, which told him about the cop’s foresight, greets his tongue again. It’s quick to give way to the stronger taste of the other man’s skin and pre-come. Raj abandons finesse in favor of swallowing him as deep as he can, over and over. It’s the best he can do with his hands cuffed.

He’d thought his arms would start aching quickly, that kneeling on back alley asphalt instead of carpet or at the very least smooth tiles would start hurting faster. Instead, although it’s rough and he feels exposed, it also feels good. Good because it’s bad, because it’s wrong? Maybe. Yes. He makes a low raw sound in the back of his throat, and hears it echoed back to him.

Just as he thinks he’s almost done, when the taste of salt is thick upon his tongue, he’s abruptly halted by the hand on the back of his head.

“Stop. Get up.”

“But–”

There’s a careful but insistent tug on his hair. “ _Up_.”

Raj levers himself to his feet. There’s a stack of wooden pallets beside them, and he’s caught by the cuffs and pushed face down over the stack. His face starts burning at this unexpected treatment.

“Comfortable?” his captor asks solicitously, leaning in close, his cock pressing in between Raj’s thighs. Raj pushes back against it and a light slap lands on his ass.

“Patience.”

Raj feels a hand slip up his inner thigh, urging his legs apart. He shifts obediently. The cop’s fingers press between his legs, rubbing him expertly through the taut leather.

“Fuck,” he says helplessly.

There’s a laugh right by his ear. “Yes.”

It was a painstaking effort to get into the leather, and he wasn’t sure how well it would work anyway. Raj is quite annoyed when the cop simply pops the buttons and peels his pants down to his knees.

“Oh, God.” It becomes real when the night air hits his bare, slightly sweaty skin. Even more real as one slick finger pushes unceremoniously into his ass. He tries to press back onto the other man’s hand, but he’s pinned in place by the slight solidity of the cop’s body, tucked right up against his.

“ _No_.” The breath on his ear is warm. “I’m going to give you what _I_ want, when _I_ want to give it to you.”

Raj feels like he’s going to come right then and there. That quiet order combined with the finger working inside him has him teetering on the edge.

“Please, S–sir.” The wood is rough under his cheek. It smells of paper and ink. “Please...”

The finger slips out of him for just a moment, only to be replaced by two. Raj has a half-second to wonder how the cop is managing the lube one-handed before those fingers find his prostate and curl against it knowingly.

It’s funny how there’s really only that one so-clinical word for a spot that sends pleasure through him like a jolt of electricity. This time when he moves to urge those fingers to twist and thrust, they do.

“I’m–”

“No, you’re not.” The cop’s hand pulls back altogether and Raj is surprised at how quickly he falls back from the edge of climax. “You’re not coming until I have.” One finger drags slowly over his entrance. “Ready... or not?”

“Ye –  no. I–”

The finger pushes back inside him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You could. A little.”

There’s a hitching breath by his ear. Raj opens his eyes long enough to see that the other man’s are closed and he’s biting his lip.

“Fucking hell.” The curse is more than just a curse; it’s an acceptance. His fingers _shove_ into Raj, twist and press gracelessly and make Raj let out a sobbing moan.

“ _Please_.”

But the cop pulls back again. Maybe he’s decided this isn’t worth the risk.

There’s a pause, then, with nothing in him, when Raj is not sure what will happen next. His heartbeat is so loud in his ears that he can’t hear anything else.

He exhales, relieved, when the cop’s cock nudges against his entrance. Slowly, slowly, sliding in, the head pushing past the tight ring of muscle. The other man stops there, both of them hovering on the edge of need and desire.

“Ask me for it,” the cop invites him. One hand is guiding his cock into Raj; the other circles one of Raj’s wrists, below the cuff, and squeezes.

“I – please–”

“ _Ask_ me.”

His whole body is screaming for it. How can’t he hear that?

“Fuck me,” Raj says, pressing his cheek against the pallets, trying to spread his legs wider, hobbled at mid-thigh by the leather. “Please, do it. I want it, I want you...”

The cop leans down close, pushing in another inch, pressing his lips to the side of Raj’s throat so that Raj can feel him smile.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, pushing right in with one slow stroke, sending fire along Raj’s already burning nerves. He holds the position for a moment, his lips teasing at Raj’s skin. Raj tries to keep breathing.

Then the other man starts moving, and Raj realizes that there’s more to this yet.

It’s steady and sure and rhythmic, the sort of pace that Raj would ordinarily come easily from – except that if he so much as tenses up, the cop stops moving. It’s a sweet tease at first that becomes a hot torment.

“Fu–please–please–”

Before long he’s rising to his toes and then moving back down to meet the cop’s thrusts. He can hear the way the other man’s breathing quickens when he does it.

“You’re so desperate. Look at you. What would your pimp think of you giving it away like this?”

Even Raj isn’t prepared for his own response: he comes quick and hard, the chain of the cuffs rattling, and simultaneously bursts into tears.

“Shit, Raj–” Stuart pulls out immediately and steps to one side, already going for the keys to the cuffs. “It’s okay, you’re okay... here, let me get these off...” He unlocks the cuffs and tosses them onto the top pallet. “It’s alright, Rajesh.” His voice is sweet and concerned and breaks through the odd haze in Raj’s head.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” Raj fumbles at his pants; Stuart whips a tissue out of his pocket and helps him clean up. “I’m okay,” Raj keeps saying like a mantra.

“Oh my God.” Stuart’s arms go around him as soon as his pants are up and fastened. “I’m so _sorry_.”

“It’s okay, Stuart. I promise. It just got really intense. _Really_ intense.”

“So I guessed.” Stuart looks furious; Raj knows it’s self-directed.

“I _liked_ it.”

“Raj, you _cried_.” Stuart kisses his damp cheek. “You still are, a little.”

“I know, but it’s okay.” Raj tries to prove it by kissing Stuart and, after a few seconds of tension, Stuart kisses him back.

“I’m sorry,” Stuart says again.

“Don’t be.” Raj rubs his nose against Stuart’s. “I could’ve taken more.”

“We’ll see. At home.” Stuart takes a step back to put his own clothing back together.

That’s how come he has his cock in his hand when the _real_ cops arrive.


End file.
